A Sly and Artful Party
by Harmonic Friction
Summary: Frodo knows that Sam cannot possibly confront Rosie, so with the help of his two wild cousins, he plans a party to bring them together. But what if it all goes terribly wrong?
1. Loved a Bonney Barmaid

A SLY AND ARTFUL PARTY  
  
Narrated by Frodo Baggins  
  
*Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Not even the apples. Happy now?  
  
*Rating: PG- Comic Mischief and Mild Drinking  
  
*Summary: Frodo knows that Sam cannot possibly confront Rosie, so with the help of his wild cousins, he plans the party that is certain to bring them together. But what if it all goes terribly wrong?  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*CHAPTER ONE*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I HAVE long known of Samwise Gamgee's love for Rose Cotton. I remember watching him deliver hand-made braids of daisies to her doorstep and then running off in embarrassment. I can still picture perfectly the times when he would go on talking about her, only about five years old- saying how her hair was so pretty and how he thought she was so much fun. And I could never forget the times playing in the fields: My cousin Peregrin blindfolded and made to chase after us, while Meriadoc (my distant relation, but we call each other 'cousin') called to him from the tops of trees he'd climbed; Sam and Rosie would giggle together, Rosie clasping Sam's hand and the two of them skipping through the long grass as I let poor little Pippin think he'd tagged me, since no one else was giving him any justice.  
  
But that was when Sam was a child. He loved Rosie in a friendly way. She was the little girl who he played with when there were no more chores to be done at Bagshot. She saved him from being laughed at by other young hobbits many a time. Sam did not need to think of loving Rosie any other way back in those days, and now he is faced with the truth: He would like to take Rosie's hand, not to run with, but to caress lovingly. He'd like to kiss her passionately. He has told me all of these feelings, and I think that it is grand, except for one minor detail.  
  
Sam is afraid to confront her. When I say 'afraid', I mean he will not talk to her for longer than two minutes. When he spots her in the Green Dragon Inn working tables, he begs to be placed where she isn't picking up orders. He is terrified of her.  
  
Merry, Pip and I joke with him a bit more than we should, and instead of laughing back, he gets terribly red in the face and breathes loudly. Once, Pippin wrote a song about a 'young gardenin' lad' who 'loved a bonney barmaid'. Now, it did not name names, but as you can pick up here, it was awfully obvious. Rosie sent grinning glances at Samwise, while Pippin nearly died from laughter, clapping and yelling out the words to the song. Sam, however, was NOT amused. He left, blushing deeply, and we found him out by the cross bridge, smoking his pipe and staring into the water, drowned in thought. Pippin apologised, and though Sam promised that he 'did not mind a bit', we three knew otherwise.  
  
"I didn't mean it to make him angry!" Pippin had sighed sadly, after the incident. I had invited he and Merry to my hole for a late tea and a talk.  
  
Merry snorted. "Think he was more humiliated than angry."  
  
Pippin's mouth drooped in guilt. "Well, I didn't mean that, either."  
  
"I know, Pippin." I patted his arm. "I know you never meant anyone harm, but we all must remember how touchy Sam gets when it has to do with Rosie."  
  
"Does he ever!" Merry declared. "He never used to have a problem with her. He never used to lose his tongue when she'd come 'round. We were all friends, plain and simple." Pippin caught Merry's eye and nodded.  
  
I shrugged. "That was when we were younger. Things did not matter so much then."  
  
"But they were a lot more fun!" Pippin exclaimed, and with that, he ate his third biscuit.  
  
So, we often talked about the sad case of Samwise Gamgee and his love for Rosie. I often wished there was some way of getting the two of them to talk. A natural way. A way that did not necessarily have to depend upon Sam. And that was when I got my brilliant idea.  
  
I could plan a party. A dinner party with plenty of good things to eat, and only guests who Sam was comfortable around. Also, no one who would come between Sam and Rosie. Here is the catch: I would tell Sam that only he and a few other guests were invited, with no mentioning of Rose. Then, I would tell Rosie that Sam was coming along, and he had been the one who invited her. And of course, I would invite both Merry and Pippin, because they'd come rolling through the window if they did not receive a proper invitation. That would be enough guests, because both of the latter always seem to accumulate people as they travel.  
  
Now, to get it all done. 


	2. Hope

~*~*~*~*~*~*CHAPTER TWO*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I decided that the party would be held at the twelfth day of June, one week after I'd had my idea. I set off almost immediately to invite people to the event. First, I went down to Number 3, Bagshot Row. Little Marigold Gamgee was sweeping the porch as I came up the walk.  
  
"Halloa, Mr. Frodo!" she grinned at me. "An' what can I do for you?"  
  
"Evening, Mari," I greeted. "I was looking for your brother Samwise. Is he in?"  
  
She nodded, her golden braids swinging. "Sure 'e is. Go on in, Master Baggins. 'E's in the kitchen, fixing supper. But what else would 'e be doin', eh?" Marigold rolled her eyes playfully, making fun of the way Sam loves to cook.  
  
"Thank you," I laughed. With that, I went into their hole, where I had gone many times, and knew almost as well as Bag End. It is much more simple, but very cozy and full of hobbits all of whom are very dear.  
  
"Youn' Frodo!" came a loud, booming voice from across the hall. I grinned and waved at Sam's father, known as The Gaffer. I ducked into the kitchen before he could start telling one of his interesting, but very time- consuming stories.  
  
I was greeted by a glorious smell. Sure enough, there was good old Sam, hunched over a big kettle that was emitting a beautiful odor of roasted rabbit.  
  
Sam turned around, and his eyes brightened. "Mr. Frodo! I didn't hear you come in!"  
  
"That's unusual," I replied, since Sam has the keenest ears in the Shire. "What have you been up to on this lovely day?"  
  
He scrunched his eyebrows and looked very serious, and I knew that, like his father, he was about to regale me. It did not matter that the subject could be as boring as ever. "Hmmm. I went gardenin' at the Bracegirdle hole. Seems Master and Misses are havin' another child." He paused, waiting for a response, which was not hard to produce.  
  
My mouth dropped. "My! How many little hobbits does that make?"  
  
"A ton!" responded Sam, and it was clear that his mind was on other matters, because normally, he would name each of them. "It seems this one was a bit of a surprise, from what I've been hearin' in town. That reminds me- I went down to the village to buy some soap, two loaves of bread. One was wheat, and the other one-" he paused for dramatic purposes-" was rye. Then I stopped by the butchers, and they were havin' a dirty hard time because this huge pig was runnin' 'round wild an' chasin' folks- he'd escaped from the pen by O'Tollon's slaughterin' house, they thought." Sam pounded his fist into his hand and exclaimed," It knocked down the sign near town! An' then, you won't believe what happened next. Your cousin Pippin Took runs into town, with Tom Cotton, Marigold Gamgee and some others. Seems they'd let the pig go free- felt sorry for it, or somethin'!"  
  
"Oh dear," I replied, shifting my feet. This was no big surprise. Pippin and his friends always found some way to entertain themselves, and it always made at least one hobbit angry. Aside from that, O'Tollon and my young cousin were what you might call 'clashing personalities'. In simpler terms, Pippin always finds a way to irritate the old farmer. "Did old O'Tollon catch them?"  
  
"Well.. That's the thing of it. O'Tollon says he's gonna get them if it's the last thing he does," Sam responded thoughtfully. "But I reckon they have a fair advantage over him- he can't run like he used to, his eyesight's poor, and he won't go in the Green Dragon because he has a runnin' feud with old man Cotton!"  
  
I chuckled, but could sense that Sam was about to go into why exactly there was a running feud, so I interrupted him.  
  
"Sam? I have a question to ask you," I began.  
  
"D'ya need me to garden at Bag End? I could go over after supper. Or- I could do it right now!" He turned away from the stew pot. "Mari can tend to the-"  
  
I held my hand up. "No, Sam. Bag End is looking quite lovely, after the pruning job that you did yesterday. What I'd like to know is if you would care to join Meriadoc, Peregrin and I for a little celebration on June twelfth."  
  
Sam nodded. "Of course I would! What time shall I arrive, to start cleaning? I'll wager Master Meriadoc will be wantin' the room on the south end o' the hall, he always likes to be awakened by sunlight and that room's by far the-"  
  
"SAM!" I interrupted again. "I don't think you understand me. I don't want you to clean. I want you to attend the party!"  
  
"What shall I bring, then? I can have me sisters help and make a few pies, and then we can get Mam to-"  
  
"No, Sam! I just.. want.. you.. to.. be.. a.. GUEST!" I explained slowly. "Take a load off, for once. Come, celebrate with us!"  
  
A smile claimed his face. He nodded. "I'd be very honored. But you must let me bring some o' me corn fritters, at least."  
  
I shook my head, and patted his shoulder. "Sam, if you must. You're hopeless," I told him playfully.  
  
"Aye, Mr. Frodo," he nodded once more, giving a small chuckle. "Aye."  
  
There was a moment of quiet, in which my heart sank because I just knew Sam was lamenting over being too 'hopeless' to speak with Rosie. I felt bad for joking with him, for a moment anyhow, before I brightened with the realization that I was going to get them together in just a week's time.  
  
After denying Sam's request for me to stay for dinner, I left to find Rosie Cotton. 


End file.
